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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623833">You're No Good, You're No Good (You Could Kill Me and You Should)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardling/pseuds/Bardling'>Bardling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bisexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Come Swallowing, Declarations Of Love, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kinda, M/M, Monster Hunter Jaskier, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Potion Affected Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Potion Affected Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rimming, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), actual lube, post-mountain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:14:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardling/pseuds/Bardling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since Geralt last saw Jaskier. Five years since he watched his red jacket disappear down that mountain and did nothing to stop him. Five years since he lost his best friend. Geralt decided the best way to keep his mind off of Jaskier was to take contracts and keep himself occupied. His thoughts can't drift if he has no time for it, right? Wrong.</p>
<p>Geralt finds a new way to distract himself when he hears of a new monster hunter making his way across the Continent. One that isn't a Witcher. They call him the "Red Wyvern." Not too keen on a new hunter stealing his contracts, Geralt sets off to Temeria to investigate this mystery hunter. </p>
<p>But what happens when Geralt overtakes the Red Wyvern's vampire contact and the hunter is the last person he'd expect him to be?</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>The one where post-mountain Jaskier takes the knowledge he gathered from 20 years of travelling with Geralt and becomes a monster hunter out of spite, only to be confronted by the very man who broke his heart. Can their relationship be mended? Or will Jaskier send Geralt back to where he came from?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>268</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You're No Good, You're No Good (You Could Kill Me and You Should)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yeah, I know wrong, I know right<br/>But I just love to pick a fight<br/>And I can sleep with one eye open<br/>If there's any sleep at night<br/>I got my knife, got my gun<br/>Let's see how fast you can run<br/>You might think that you can hurt me<br/>But the damage has been done</p>
<p>It's pathetic, I know<br/>A jealous fool who won't let go<br/>If I was sorry for my actions<br/>Would I ever stoop so low<br/>Got no reason to live<br/>And I've got nothing left to give you<br/>But my love, love, fuck it, this is love</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time in over a decade, the White Wolf is alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s always been </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he supposes. Witchers are better off that way, not having someone dependent upon them when there’s no guarantee they’ll make it back home. Sure, he’s had his fair share of sexual partners and he has the wolves at Kaer Morhen, but he doesn’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>relationships</span>
  </em>
  <span>. However, Geralt became accustomed to having his singing companion by his side in the many years that he and Jaskier travelled together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If he tries hard enough, he can still hear the strumming of a lute and melodic harmonization as he lies alone in a rented bed. Geralt hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed having Jaskier’s company until it was gone. His barker, his bard, his best friend is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And there’s not a single monster he can blame for it other than himself. He pushed Jaskier away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>made Jaskier leave.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, when a hunt drags on too long and the only sounds to be heard are that of the fauna and his own thoughts, his harsh words ring back in his ears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shoveling it?” He recalls, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to shake the thoughts away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.” He growls, and suddenly his fist is colliding with a tree. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was five years ago. Geralt hasn’t seen Jaskier in </span>
  <em>
    <span>five years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He hasn’t stopped looking for him either. He camped out at the bottom of the mountain for weeks, just in case Jaskier turned around and came back. He never did. So Geralt moved on, he took more contracts and asked about Jaskier in every single town he stopped in. Occasionally he’d be told that Jaskier was there a few days ago, but he was mostly told that they’ve seen such a bard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frustrated, alone, and loathing himself, Geralt took on more contracts. The less time he had to dwell on the past and his mistakes, the less he had to think about Jaskier. Staying busy keeps him from having to confront his emotions. There was nothing wrong with his method at first.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But now it’s a problem. He reached a point where he was thinking about Jaskier and the mountain during every second of what little free time he got. The only logical response to that in Geralt’s brain was to take contract after contract and not stop. He refuses to let himself relax and drift off into thoughts about how the sky reminds him of Jaskier’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So many things are ruined for Geralt now. Again, he can only blame himself for how looking at clear blue skies makes his chest ache. Or how he can’t collect Blowball flowers without his throat getting tight. Or how the color red makes him both nauseous and infuriated. He wishes he could blame someone, anyone else. It’s not for a lack of trying, either. He tried to blame Yennefer, who didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to make advances on him after the dragon hunt. He tried to blame everyone who was on the mountain, but in the end he knew it was his fault. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he fucked up the moment Jaskier turned away and walked back down the mountain without a word, without hurling words back at him with that fire that is so innately </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The younger man’s broken expression haunts him nightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve heard rumors floating around of a new monster hunter, Roach. One who isn’t a Witcher.” Geralt says to the mare, petting her side as he readies her saddlebag. She twitches her nose and flicks her tail. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently he’s gained a decent reputation in parts of the Continent. They call him the Red Wyvern. Which is just a pretentious way to say Red Dragon.” He says. Roach responds with another flick of her tail and an impatient chuff. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, alright. I’ll get to the point. He was last seen in Temeria, so that’s where we’re going. I can’t have some fresh blood stealing my contracts, so I’m investigating. If we leave now we can make it by sundown.” He grumbles, then finishes securing his pack and mounts Roach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he always is when it comes to travelling and geography, Geralt is right. They arrive in Temeria just as the sky gets dark and the sun goes down. Geralt finds himself extremely on edge as he guides Roach towards where he knows the stablehand for the inn is located. He chalks it up to the fact that it’s dark and he hasn’t slept in a while. Still, his amber eyes dart around at even the slightest of sounds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hands Roach off to the stable boy along with proper payment before heading towards the tavern. Without meaning to, his thoughts drift to the times he was in Temeria with Jaskier. Even though they were hunting a monster and not a man, he can’t help but be reminded of the songs his bard sang those nights. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> he misses Jaskier. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tavern looks exactly the same as it did last time he was here, Geralt notes as he walks in. His eyes instantly dart to the table at the back corner, the one he and Jaskier shared drinks at all those years ago. Despite the sinking pit in his stomach, he sits there anyway. Alone. He makes no effort to waive over a bar maiden for a drink, or to even scowl at the patrons he knows are staring at him. He just listens, focusing his enhanced hearing on the conversations flowing around him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s overwhelming at first, all of the different voices and volumes, but Geralt uses the method that Jaskier taught him to block out the ones he doesn’t want to hear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why is he thinking about Jaskier again? Why must all of his memories be tainted by the man he ruined his relationship with?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s eyebrows furrow as he hears an all too familiar song being sung by a table in an adjacent corner. It’s not as good as it normally is, but then again no one could ever measure up to the original. He thinks maybe it’s his memories playing a trick on him and that he just wishes he was hearing it, but then the next line is sung and he knows it’s real.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Toss a coin to your Witcher. O' Valley of Plenty.” He hears it clear as day from across the room. Before he can register his body moving, he’s halfway across the tavern and almost to the table. He stops directly in front of it and is met with the very scared faces of three men. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That song. Why are you singing it? How do you know it?” Geralt asks, half growling as he glares down at them. He can smell their fear, but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t heard that song in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he needs to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Tell me!” He shouts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The three men exchange looks until one finally swallows and speaks up. “We um- there was a guy in here singin’ it. Someone knew ‘im and convinced ‘im to sing a few songs. It’s catchy and got stuck in our heads.” The man in the middle says, trying not to meet Geralt’s angry gaze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s expression drops. Could it be..? It has to be. Who else would be singing Jaskier’s songs? Jaskier was here, Geralt can feel it in his bones. “How long ago was he here? Where did he go?” He demands, all previous intentions of finding the new monster hunter gone. All he cares about is getting Jaskier back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man on the right speaks up this time. “He left around sundown. He’s helping take care of our vampire problem, the Red Wyvern said he had to wait until it was dark otherwise the bastards wouldn’t be out. He’d be out by the ruins, that’s where they like to camp.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Has Jaskier found a new monster hunter to write songs about? A new man to follow around, </span>
  <em>
    <span>to devote himself to.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, Geralt absolutely won’t think about Jaskier being someone else’s bard. What kind of hunter would let Jaskier hunt a clan of fucking vampires anyway? He could get hurt!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Geralt says shortly before turning and making a beeline for the door. He fetches Roach as fast as he can and sets off in the direction of the old castle ruins. That explains why he didn’t see Jaskier when he arrived in Temeria, he was going in the opposite direction. Geralt gives Roach a firm nudge with his boot and makes her gallop faster. He has to get there before Jaskier gets hurt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything blurs in Geralt’s mind. All he can think about is killing the monster and keeping Jaskier safe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Monsters</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he corrects himself. The man at the table said bastards, plural. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck is he getting into? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He asks himself, but quickly discards the question as he approaches the ruins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt dismounts Roach so that she’s far enough away to be out of harm's way, but close enough that he won’t have to walk forever to get back to her. Sighing, he digs through his pack and pulls out a several potion bottles. He doesn’t know what kind of vampires these are and he doesn’t have the luxury of time to figure it out, so he’s playing it safe. And by safe, he means taking a nearly lethal amount of potions at once. He downs a Cat potion, Black Blood, Tawny Owl, and Petri’s Philter.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt winces at the taste and clenches his jaw as the concoction of potions start taking effect. Once he can see clearly, he searches for tracks to follow. It doesn’t take long for him to find the smaller set of boot prints, the exact same ones he’s followed a hundred times before. All these years and Jaskier still has the same old pair of tattered boots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course he does</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt thinks. If it were any other situation and he didn’t have toxic sludge coursing through his veins, Geralt would probably feel an intense surge of fondness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But this is now and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>have toxic sludge running through his body, so all he feels is the primal need to kill these fucking vampires and protect </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>bard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt takes off in a sprint and follows the boot tracks, running as fast as he physically can. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thud. Thud. Thud.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thump. Thump. Thump.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All Geralt can hear as he tracks Jaskier is the sound of his feet hitting the ground and his heart hammering in his chest. He’s vaguely aware of the branch that snapped under his weight, but he doesn’t have enough wherewithal to care. He’s staring down at the ground as he runs, refusing to take his eyes off the tracks until he finds the bard they belong to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He collides with something solid and groans, his eyes darting up to identify what he hopes isn’t a higher vampire. All he sees is a figure dressed in red with its back to him. His survival instincts are in overdrive and he reaches for his sword, but the figure moves faster than he does. Suddenly, there’s a sword pointing at his throat and black eyes staring him down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier?” Geralt whispers, dumbfounded. It’s Jaskier, there’s no question about that. He’d know that face anywhere. He knows him blind, by the way his breaths fall and his feet strike the earth. He would know him in death, at the end of the world. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Only Jaskier looks… different. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bigger.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The once lithe, sturdy bard is now </span>
  <em>
    <span>built </span>
  </em>
  <span>and muscular, not unlike Geralt himself. He looks more rugged and his hair has grown out, along with his scruff. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He looks good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the carnal part of Geralt’s brain thinks. What’s the most surprising to Geralt is the fact that Jaskier’s eyes are black, not the cornflower blue color he fell in love with. They’re black like… well, like his own eyes when he takes potions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sword resting mere centimeters away from his jugular does not drop or waver for a second. Thick eyebrows draw together and black eyes narrow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well if it isn’t the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Butcher of Blaviken</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself.” Jaskier hisses, his words laced with venom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt recoils at the use of the name. It’s one he hasn’t been called in years… but then again, Jaskier was the one that cleared his name. It’s only fitting that Jaskier gets to use it against him now. It hurts, but he knows his words hurt Jaskier worse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier what are you- why are your eyes…” Geralt asks, his adrenaline pumping too quickly for him to form proper questions. His potion-filled desperation to kill and protect is slowly being tinged with something </span>
  <em>
    <span>else.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He just can’t place what it is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a name I haven’t been called in a long time. Not since you ever so kindly wished me out of your life five years ago. My eyes are like this for the same reason yours are, Geralt.” Jaskier spits, his hand trembling just slightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt blinks a few times, refusing to react to Jaskier’s salt in his gaping wound. “You’re the Red Wyvern.” He says, looking Jaskier up and down. “Gotta say, not very original. Being named after the color of your outfit.” Geralt smirks. He knows he shouldn’t be verbally taunting a man that has a sword tip to his throat, but his filter lessens as his toxicity level rises. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re a pain in my ass. Why are you even here, Geralt? To insult me? To yell at me again and tell me to fuck off? Because if that’s the case, you should turn around and leave before I start getting stab happy. I have another vampire to kill, so kindly bugger off to another city and find your own monster to kill.” Jaskier says, his nostrils flaring angrily. He drops his sword, but keeps his distance from Geralt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier I’m here to-” Geralt starts, but is interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping behind them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both men wheel around, their swords drawn and ready. Despite being on hundreds of hunts before, Geralt is out of his element. He’s always been the one leading, the one calling the shots. He’s never been an… accomplice to a hunt before. He’s never followed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>lead before. This is entirely new territory. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop talking. Get Yrden ready and guard my back.” Jaskier says, holding a hand up to silence Geralt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Something about the action makes Geralt’s toxic blood boil. </span><em><span>Who does he think he is?</span></em> <em><span>Bossing me around like a fucking brat.</span></em><span> He thinks, growling low in his throat. A sharp, metallic smell knocks him out of his anger. A smell he knows far too well.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re bleeding. Get back and let me handle it.” Geralt says, putting himself in front of Jaskier and pushing him back behind a pillar of stone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck off, Geralt! Stop treating me like a fragile bard. I can handle a fucking vampire. I took care of the first two without your help.” Jaskier shouts, shoving past him. He slams Geralt against the pillar, not caring about the winded noise the Witcher makes. “This is my contract, my hunt. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, so either do what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>say or stay out of my </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>way.” Jaskier growls, pushing off of Geralt and stalking off into the wooded area beside the ruins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt growls back, snarling to the point that the moonlight illuminates his teeth. He works his jaw back and forth, trying to bite his tongue. There’s no way in hell he’s letting Jaskier do this alone. He stomps off after him, his teeth grinding with every step. Anger will not remedy things with Jaskier, he knows this, but gods Jaskier is making so many efforts to piss him off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless, he follows Jaskier’s lead and watches his back as the hunter rushes into the woods. Geralt has seen this fighting tactic before, rushing a monster and ambushing it before it can run at you. He’s seen it before, because he’s the one who taught it to Jaskier. It all clicks into place for him then. Jaskier using Geralt’s method. Jaskier being the Red Wyvern. Even the way Jaskier held his sword to Geralt’s throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Jaskier became a hunter because of Geralt. Not only that, but Jaskier is using the things he learned from travelling with Geralt to be a monster hunter. </span><em><span>Fuck, </span></em><span>Geralt thinks. </span><em><span>This is my fault.</span></em> <em><span>He’s risking his life because of me.</span></em><span> He sighs, keeping his ears trained on Jaskier and the noises around him. He only hears Jaskier’s breathing, heartbeat, and running at first. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then he hears the second, much faster set of footsteps following. “Geralt! I could use that trap right about now!” He hears Jaskier yell, and then he’s breaking out into a sprint towards him. It only takes him a few seconds to reach Jaskier, but he’s not fast enough to stop the claws from slashing into the younger man’s arm. The noise Jaskier makes is loud and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pained</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Geralt lets out a feral scream and casts Yrden and Igni in succession, finishing the vampire off with a hack of his silver sword to its neck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t realize it until after the vampire’s head rolls across the grass, but Jaskier cast a flame spell as well. Geralt doesn’t care about that though. He can ask about Jaskier’s newfound magic later. Right now all he cares about is the fact that he’s injured. Geralt sheaths his sword and turns to Jaskier, gently pulling him to his feet by his uninjured arm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling Jaskier in front of him, Geralt shoves the younger man’s sleeve up to inspect the gash on his forearm. Jaskier tries to yank his arm away, but Geralt’s grip is firm and unrelenting. “Stop squirming and let me look at it. You’re hurt. Let me help.” Geralt commands, trying to hold Jaskier in place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier glares at Geralt with the heat of a thousand suns, present even in the blackened state of his eyes. With one strong pull, he tugs his arm free and shoves Geralt hard with the other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need your protection, Geralt. And I certainly don’t need you to tend to my wounds, especially not after what you put me through. You wouldn’t have taken care of me then, so don’t fucking start now. You’ve done enough.” Jaskier says, poking his finger into Geralt’s chest as he steps closer and closer. Their lack of a size difference is much more noticeable now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt snaps. He grabs Jaskier’s wrist to stop his jabbing finger and looks him directly in the eyes. “Really? Because from what just happened, it looks like you do need it. That vampire would have killed you if I didn’t intervene. You can use whatever knowledge of mine that you picked up, but you’re not a witcher, Jaskier. You’re just a bard </span>
  <em>
    <span>My </span>
  </em>
  <span>bard.” Geralt says, now almost chest to chest with the other man. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have been caught off guard if you hadn’t been here. I was perfectly fine until </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> showed up. I’m not a witcher, Geralt. You’re right. And I used to be a bard, until I got to the bottom of that mountain and realized that you ruined songwriting for me.” Jaskier’s pent up anger explodes like a volatile potion bottle. His fist clenches at his side and he rears back, punching Geralt square in the stomach.  “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> yours. You made that </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>clear when you said… What was it that you said? Oh yeah! ‘If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.’” Jaskier mimics Geralt’s voice and tone, watching as he sputters from the forceful blow to his stomach. “That’s payback for Posada.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If I hadn’t showed up, that vampire would have ripped your pretty face off. It would have bled you dry. There’s a reason witchers have to take potions to keep up with them, Jaskier! And from the looks of it, you didn’t take that one.” Geralt says, straightening himself before lunging at Jaskier. He wraps his hand around his slim throat and pins him against a large tree.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You might be bigger now and have a few more kills under your belt than you did five years ago, but I’ll always be stronger than you. You can’t overpower me, even if you wanted to. But I have a feeling you don’t actually want to. No… you act out and mouth off like a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>brat</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you want to be put in your place.” Geralt’s voice drops to a low, gravelly tone as he leans in toward Jaskier’s ear. He tightens his fingers and squeezes, revelling in the breathy noise Jaskier makes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve wanted me like this for years. You can’t deny it, because I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. I’ve heard you moan and whimper to yourself on your bedroll late at night when you think I’m asleep. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>smelled </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you were doing.” Geralt adds, squeezing Jaskier’s throat tighter as he slots his thigh between the brunette’s legs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier thrashes and hisses, but can’t hide the undeniable sound of a gasp as Geralt chokes him against the tree. Fuck Geralt and fuck his stupid body for being turned on by this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the potions.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He tells himself, but he knows it’s not.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Geralt. Just because I wanted you then doesn’t mean I want you now. You could’ve had me from the moment we met, but you never wanted me. You chose someone else. Every. Single. Time.” Jaskier punctuates his words by shooting a spell at Geralt that knocks him back several feet, giving Jaskier the space to charge at him and knock him to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt grunts, coughing as the wind is knocked out of him. Jaskier is on top of him now, his hand resting on Geralt’s throat. His other hand is drawn back, threatening to either hit him or cast another spell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re wrong. I’ve always wanted you, Jaskier. I always chose someone else? Who did I keep by my side for decades, hm? Who did I let bathe me? Who did I share a bed with in all those inns? You, Jaskier. It’s always been </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That’s why I’ve been trying to find you for </span>
  <em>
    <span>five years.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I never stopped looking for you, and I wouldn’t have stopped unless I had proof you were dead or I died myself.” Geralt confesses, looking up at Jaskier with a tense jaw and still-black eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So if you’re going to hit me, do it. Cast whatever spell you want on me, because I deserve it for what I did to you. I have no one to blame for the mountain incident but myself. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>fault, not yours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucked up. I’m sorry, Jaskier. For everything. You’re the only person I’ve ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I didn’t know how to deal with that. If life could give me one </span>
  <em>
    <span>true </span>
  </em>
  <span>blessing, it would be to have you by my side for the rest of my days.” Geralt closes his eyes and braces for the impact, entirely ready for Jaskier to kill him if he wants to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Jaskier doesn’t hit him. He doesn’t shoot off a spell from his hand. He doesn’t stab him. No, he removes his hand from Geralt’s throat and looks down at him with a trembling lower lip. Jaskier fists the front of Geralt’s armor and pulls him up, crashing his lips into Geralt’s slightly more chapped ones. Their lips slot together perfectly, like a safe ship harbored.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve loved you since I was eighteen years old. I devoted myself to you. I wanted so desperately for you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, to love me at least a fraction of how much I love you. But you chose her. Again and again, you chose her. You hurt me so many times, Geralt.” Jaskier says, and it sounds like he might start crying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt surges forward and flips their position, kissing Jaskier desperately as he pushes him back onto the ground. “I haven’t seen her since the dragon hunt. I chose you, Jaskier. I know I was too late then, but I’m choosing you now. I’ll never hurt you again.” He says, pulling back to let Jaskier breathe. He grinds his hips against Jaskier’s and is delighted to discover that they’re both hard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier moans, eliciting a low growl from deep within Geralt’s chest. He wraps his hand around the hunter’s pale throat again and squeezes, grinding against him harder. “Tell me if you don’t want this. Say the word and I’ll stop.” Geralt says, groaning as their hard cocks drag against each other through too many layers of clothes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier moans again and shakes his head. “Don’t stop, please. I want this. I want you, Geralt.” That’s all Jaskier had to say for Geralt to lose the only shred of restraint he could muster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The witcher takes two fistfuls of Jaskier’s shirt and rips it open, grinning at the sound of tearing fabric. “Good boy.” Geralt rumbles as he kisses Jaskier’s chest, biting down hard enough to ensure there will be bruises in the morning. Jaskier arches up and gasps, his hands gripping Geralt’s hair tightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck me, Geralt. I haven’t- in so long… please. I need you.” Jaskier pleads, spreading his legs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt makes a noise that can only be described as animalistic as he grips Jaskier’s pants in both hands and yanks them off roughly. He quickly undoes his own trousers and shoves them down, wrapping his hand around Jaskier’s cock. He places three fingers in front of Jaskier’s mouth and taps his lips. “Suck. Get them wet for me so I can open you up enough to take my cock.” He says, stroking Jaskier’s cock roughly as he watches him eagerly obey.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier’s lips part and he sucks Geralt’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and coating them with saliva. He bobs his head on Geralt’s fingers as he gets them wet, just like he would if it were Geralt’s cock in his mouth instead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Geralt groans, watching as Jaskier sucks his fingers with skilled movements. If he weren’t so desperate to fuck Jaskier so hard all of Temeria could hear him, he’d be replacing his fingers with his cock and letting Jaskier take the whole thing down his throat. “Good boy.” He says, slowly removing his fingers from Jaskier’s hot, wet mouth. Jaskier whines from both the praise and loss of Geralt’s fingers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt keeps jerking Jaskier off as he slides his slick finger into the younger man’s tight, willing hole. The moan that ripples through the air is music to Geralt’s ears as he works Jaskier open. He’s far too desperate and hopped up on potions to be gentle, but he still has enough coherency to make sure he doesn’t hurt Jaskier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it. Sing for me, little lark.” Geralt purrs into Jaskier’s ear when he moans loud and high pitched from the stretch of Geralt’s third finger thrusting in and out of him. Geralt pumps his fingers rhythmically, curling them and aiming for the spot that he knows will make Jaskier cry out in pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck, Geralt!” Jaskier cries out, and Geralt knows he’s hit the man’s sweet spot. “Please please please.” He begs, spreading his legs wider and clawing at Geralt’s shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so pretty when you beg.” Geralt says, pulling his fingers out of Jaskier’s clenching hole. The brunette whimpers, biting his lip as he eye’s Geralt’s massive cock. The witcher reaches into one of the pouches on his belt and retrieves a bottle of slightly off-colored oil. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is technically medical, so it might feel a little different. But it’s safe.” Geralt says as he coats his cock in a copious amount of oil. He groans from the delicious friction on his aching length, swearing under his breath. In one quick motion, he has his hands under Jaskier’s knees and is pushing them up to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He moves one hand down to guide himself into Jaskier’s needy hole, thrusting in halfway with one jolt of his hips. A punched out moan leaves Jaskier’s parted lips, his back arching up off the grass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods, you’re so big. Make me yours, Geralt.” Jaskier gasps before rocking his hips back against Geralt’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt growls possessively, pushing Jaskier’s knees down harder. He thrusts all the way in and groans as his cock is enveloped by Jaskier’s hot, tight walls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve always been mine. But now I need to prove it to you. I’m going to claim you from the inside out, Jaskier. I’m going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruin</span>
  </em>
  <span> you for everyone else. You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates his last three words with deep, hard thrusts that make Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt sets a rough, animalistic pace after that. He leans over Jaskier with his weight, pinning the hunter’s knees between both of their bodies as he fucks into his body with abandon. Jaskier can’t do much other than let out wanton moans and hold on to Geralt like his life depends on it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Geralt’s thrusts get faster, Jaskier’s noises get louder and more high pitched. Every noise that Jaskier makes spurs Geralt into a deeper, more possessive trance. He needs everyone to know that Jaskier is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He leans down and claims Jaskier’s mouth in a heated kiss that is far too much teeth and tongue, but neither of them care. He shoves his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth and swears he can still taste the fruity wine, the one that’s been his choice of drink for years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier moans into Geralt’s mouth and the witcher swears he might come inside of him at that moment. All of his noises are so gorgeous, the most amazing sounds he’s ever heard aside from Jaskier’s singing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Jask I’m close.” Geralt groans before kissing across Jaskier’s jaw and down to his neck. He kisses and licks the tendon there before sucking a deep, dark bruise into his soft skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No doublet is going to hide that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Geralt thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But I highly doubt he’d want to hide it anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier whimpers and rocks his hips to meet Geralt’s thrusts, his aching cock trapped between them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come inside me, Geralt. Mark my insides with your cum. I want it. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.” Jaskier says, his voice rough and incredibly fucked out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt moans and grips Jaskier’s hips tightly in both hands, using the leverage to pull him down and fuck him harder. They moan in unison. Jaskier lets his legs fall open, letting Geralt grab him and use him however he wants to. Both men know that there will be bruises on Jaskier’s hips in the morning, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“G-Geralt I’m going to come, fuck. Fill me up, please Sir.” Jaskier says breathily, wrapping a hand around his cock as Geralt pounds into him mercilessly. He strokes himself firm and fast, his pace matching Geralt’s as they both get closer and closer to climax. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Jaskier calling him ‘Sir’ that pushes Geralt over the edge, his willing offer of submission. He moans loudly as he pulls Jaskier’s hips flush against his own, filling Jaskier’s abused hole with an inhuman amount of cum. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, such a good boy. Cum for me, Jaskier.” Geralt says as he grinds his cock right against Jaskier’s sweet spot, still riding out his own orgasm. Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>howls</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his hand stroking and twisting around his own cock as he paints his stomach and chest white. Some of it hits his chin and Geralt growls at the sight, his cock twitching as he empties the last of his load into Jaskier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt leans down, refusing to pull out of Jaskier just yet, and cleans the cum off of him with his tongue. Jaskier shakes and whines as he cranes his neck to watch Geralt’s ministrations, his softening cock twitching weakly against his abdomen. Geralt looks deeply into Jaskier’s eyes, noting that they’re back to their ethereal cornflower blue color, then swallows and smirks devilishly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier moans at the sight, swearing under his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me. Rest in peace Julian Alfred Pankratz. Cause of death: Geralt of Rivia and his magical monster cock.” He chuckles, but the sound dies into a broken whine as Geralt pulls out of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You always had a flair for the dramatic.” Geralt chuckles back, then leans down and starts lapping at the excessive amount of cum dripping out of Jaskier’s hole. The hunter shouts, his whole body jerking as Geralt’s tongue licks and prods at his sensitive arse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jaskier gasps, his head rolling back against the dirt. Geralt grins and collects as much of his own cum in his mouth as he can, then slides up Jaskier’s body and kisses him again. Jaskier moans from the taste and the sheer eroticism of the act. He parts his lips, letting Geralt push his cum into his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier makes eye contact with him, moans, and then swallows. He even licks his lips, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. Geralt’s still-black eyes seem to darken even more as he watches Jaskier swallow his cum, claiming the man as his own once more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There. Now we belong to each other.” Geralt says, smiling softly as he collapses next to Jaskier. He snakes an arm around him, pulling the ever so slightly smaller man against his side. Jaskier hums and rests his head on Geralt’s chest, listening to the slow but steady beating of his heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stay like that for a while, their bodies intertwined under the stars with a calming silence around them. Eventually, when Geralt’s eyes have returned back to normal and the intensity of the night has properly dawned on them, Jaskier speaks up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you mean what you said?” He asks, biting his lip nervously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Geralt hums, and Jaskier knows from experience that it’s a question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“About how you didn’t stop looking for me. All of that.” Jaskier clarifies, terrified of the answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt turns and looks into Jaskier’s eyes, cupping his jaw with a softness he’s never shown anyone before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant every single word of it. I love you, Jaskier. I understand if you don’t want to say it back.” Geralt says, and Jaskier swears this is the youngest he’s ever seen Geralt look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier can’t stop himself from giving a short laugh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt, how many potions did you take before you ran in to rescue me?” He asks, his smile fond.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Four… why?” Geralt asks, blinking a bit confusedly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just seeing if maybe they made you a little bit dense.” Jaskier chuckles, but then sits up and looks at Geralt with a concerned expression. “Wait- you took </span>
  <em>
    <span>four </span>
  </em>
  <span>potions? Sweet Melitele, Geralt! Do you know how much toxicity that is? You could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>died.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He scolds, his worry ever present in his blue eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt shrugs. “I didn’t have time to figure out what kind of vampires they were, so I covered all the bases. I didn’t care if I died. All I cared about was keeping </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>safe. As it turns out, you’re capable of doing that yourself now.” He says, because not even his own life is more meaningful to him than Jaskier’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier’s eyes well with tears and he feels his heart break in an entirely different way. “Geralt of Rivia, you are both the most brilliant and most stupid man I have ever been graced with knowing.” He says, cupping Geralt’s cheek like the other man was a moment ago. Geralt doesn’t know how to take that, so he says nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “I love you, but if you ever do something dumb like that again I will kill you myself.” Jaskier says, but Geralt knows he isn’t serious and can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fair, as long as you promise not to give me any reasons to take a bunch of potions and run after you.” Geralt says, pulling Jaskier in and kissing him softly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier nods. “I promise.” He kisses Geralt back with decades worth of passion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And Geralt?” The hunter asks after several moments of slow, gentle kissing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” He replies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for… well, everything you did tonight. That vampire would have killed me if you weren’t here.” Jaskier admits, confirming what Geralt said earlier. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I would do it again in a heartbeat, a thousand times over. I will protect you until my dying breath.” Geralt says, holding Jaskier tightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I you, my dear heart.” Jaskier says softly, a promise whispered for Geralt and Geralt alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time in over half a decade, the White Wolf isn’t alone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this fic. I had been sitting on this idea for a while, and finally found the time to make it happen. I'm considering making it a series, so if you'd be interested in that just let me know! </p>
<p>This fic was heavily influenced by the song This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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